


Devil of a Time

by oooknuk



Series: Angels and Devils [2]
Category: due South
Genre: Background Relationships, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 22:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oooknuk/pseuds/oooknuk
Summary: After 'Call of the Wild', Fraser has some 'splaining to do - and some bad guys to catch





	Devil of a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters you recognize will belong to Alliance. No infringement of copyright intended. Not for profit.   
> Warnings: language, violence, m/m (only kissing). You know, this is a slash story - maybe I should only warn you if there isn't going to be sex.   
> Note: This is a sequel to 'Angel Touch' (which is an Angel: The Series crossover one shot) but more or less stands on its own unless you really need to know what Fraser is talking about. The guide book Ray mentions is 'North Canada - the Bradt Travel Guide' (2000). It's also where you will find information about William Dempster, if you're interested. And the bit about the grass really is in the guide book. 
> 
> My thanks to Karen and Sasha for once again rapidly and efficiently beta'ing this. This is for them.

I came around to the familiar and normally welcome sound of Ray's voice muttering, and to the equally familiar but much less welcome sensations of a concussion-fuelled, skull splitting headache and a numbness in my hands from being tied up. My vision was blurry but I knew I was lying on my side, and from the warmth I could detect Ray was bound behind me. The echo of his voice, apart from exacerbating the pain in my head, told me that he was facing away from me - which meant his persistent scrabbling at the ropes holding me was being done blind. I allowed myself a slight respite and listened to what he was saying.

"... it's _in_ the fucking guide books, for Christ's sake. I _saw_ it right there in Inuvik. 'If you see patches of funny grass, you run like hell'. The people who wrote the guide book know that but, oh no, the moronic, cock sucking ..." each word accompanied by a extra hard tug, ' RCM-fucking-P don't know that where you get drugs, you get bad guys _with_ guns _and_ who don't like strangers - _cop_ strangers - wandering around. What the _fuck_ were we going to do? I don't have my gun, you keep yours in the bottom of a fifty pound rucksack - what the hell were you thinking, Fraser? That they were going to say, 'So terribly sorry, here, please take us in?' Fuck _it,_ these ropes are tight."

He sounded so angry that for a brief moment I contemplated playing possum. But that was hardly fair so I cleared my throat. "Ray?"

"Fraser! You awake?" He vainly tried to twist to see me.

"Yes. Would you mind keeping your voice down?"

"Why? They've gone off in their truck, I heard 'em."

"Because it's making my head ache."

"Sorry. Hey, can you do that knot thingie now?"

"I'm afraid not - my fingers are numb. But can you reach my pocket? I think I can feel that they left my Swiss Army knife in there." Our captors didn't seem to have been very competent.

In other circumstances, Ray feeling my backside might have been ... pleasurable ... but at the moment all I felt was nauseous, worried and irritated by every sound, light and movement. "Got it. Dumb drug dealers."

He cut us loose without further ado and was then kneeling in front of me, gently touching the knot on my skull. "It's bled a lot - how are you feeling?"

"I'll live. Where's Diefenbaker?"

I sensed the frown - his face was only a blur. "I heard him barking up a storm a while back - I think they must've locked him up. They took the dogs in the truck - I heard one of the guys say he had a use for them."

"How many were there?"

"Two - just kids, really. I think they might be picking someone up."

He pulled me upright and I swayed, not entirely certain I wasn't about to lose my breakfast. "Whoa, buddy - take it easy. You stay put, I'll look around. "

"Ray," I started to protest, but he was already testing the cheap lock on the door and quickly forced it with the blade on my knife.

He put his fingers on his lips, listened at the door and was apparently satisfied because he left silently. A second attempt at standing was no more successful than the first, and I cursed my stupidity in getting us into this situation. I had no qualms on my own behalf, but Ray was right - he had no weapon, and he was trained to deal with such matters with the back up of a gun. In hindsight, his idea of simply contacting the nearest RCMP headquarters was perhaps more sensible than confronting the malfeasants, however much I feared they would escape. And now it appeared they _had_ escaped and we were now without transport or supplies, eighty kilometers from the nearest town.

Ray returned with Diefenbaker who appeared none the worse for wear - I wondered how they had managed to capture him. "The place is empty. I guess they figured even if we got out, we couldn't go nowhere. There's no radio, no phone. There's some supplies, food in the fridge. They'll be back." As he talked, he helped me up and out into the body of the cabin in whose storeroom we had been held.

"Did you get any impression of where they were going?"

He grimaced. "Olga something?"

"Ogilvie?"

"That's it."

"And they left when?"

"I heard 'em go about ten minutes before you woke up."

"Well, then, I anticipate we have at least twenty four hours before they return."

"We ain't going to sit here waiting for them, Fraser!"

"Ray," I explained with, I hoped, only the slightest tinge of impatience, "we are ill-equipped to leave. I'm injured, we have no sled or radio. I would suggest we make careful preparations for their return, surprise them and take them prisoner, using their vehicle radio to call Fort McPherson."

"Did that hit to your head rattle your brains loose, Fraser?" he yelled. "What are we going to use to take them prisoner _with,_ huh?"

I winced. "Ray, please - stop shouting. We have time to formulate our plan." I sat down at the table and held my throbbing head

His anger disappeared and was replaced by concern. "Bad, huh? How many fingers?"

"Are you holding your hand up yet?"

"I hope to God you're joking. I'm gonna look for some aspirin and a first aid kit. There's some frozen stew in the freezer - do you think we can risk it?"

I thought so, and he threw it into a saucepan to heat while he rummaged about looking for the medical supplies. Despite his pessimism, I thought we stood a fighting chance. They had undoubtedly taken all their guns but we had our wits and the element of surprise. Many a man has done more with less.

Dief whined at me. "I don't need that sort of comment from you," I told him. Honestly, he really had got into bad habits in Chicago, and Ray encouraged him. He was getting soft.

"I found some aspirin. Out of date, but better than nothing. You're not allergic or anything?"

"No. Could I have some water?"

He fetched a glass and while I took the pills, he set about gently cleaning the blood from my face and putting a dressing over the cut. I closed my eyes, partly because I felt sick but also  because I feared with Ray's face so close to mine he might see more than I wanted him too.

"You're not looking so good, Fraser." He felt my forehead. "Maybe you should lie down."

"Perhaps later. The stew will be ready, and I think we should take stock. We may not have a full twenty four hours, you know."

The venison stew was indifferent in quality but I doubt I would have enjoyed it however good it was. The blow to my head was severe - I had been unconscious for more than twenty minutes - and I knew that Ray might well end up fighting the drug dealers on his own if things got worse. I made myself eat and as soon as we finished I insisted on exploring our surroundings. We were in a clearing - the buildings consisted of a simple cabin with outhouse, attached storeroom and a shed for the vehicle. The greenhouses with their illegal crop of cannabis which had alerted us to their owners' presence were back along the road, concealed. We found our sled, miraculously, with all our supplies still attached. "Why did they take the dogs?" Ray asked.

"Sled dogs are valuable - perhaps they plan to sell them. As you can see, they don't have facilities here to keep them."

Now that I assessed the situation, our situation looked far better than I had at first feared. There was food, clothing and bedding - better still, we found a great deal of junk which would prove useful for our ambush. The bags of fertilizer gave me an idea. "Ray - was there any washing powder in the cabin?"

"Maybe - you planning on doing laundry, Fraser?"

"No, though I might be able to clean some clocks."

I explained to him and he grinned with delight. "I always knew there was a reason I liked you, Fraser."

Only the one? I thought sadly. Ray found a battery with some charge remaining, wire, plenty of rope, knives - and a crossbow, damaged, but one I thought I could fix. "We'll need to make some quarrels."

"You want to argue with them?" he asked in confusion.

"Quarrels - bolts, arrows. Metal rods would be effective."

"You mean like these?" He pick up some rusting concrete reinforcing rods.

"Exactly like those," I said with satisfaction.

We worked quickly and laid our devices around the clearing. Ray used some fishing line to rig up an ingenious early warning system which would give us about five minutes to be ready. He strung the line across the road leading into the area and tied it to a rope hung with cans near the house. "I'm impressed," I told him.

"You don't need to be a Boy Scout to know all the tricks, Fraser - drug dealers in Chicago do this sometimes."

As darkness fell, we thought we had made sufficient preparations and we could now stop, for which I was grateful. Ray offered me more aspirin which I took without argument - now was not the time for stoicism. He changed the dressing - the cut had opened up again. "I'm sorry, Ray."

"For what, Fraser?" The feel of his fingers, so gentle and careful, was soothing.

"For getting you into this - you were right, I should have known better."

He took his hands away and I stifled a sigh. "Now you're worrying me. You throw me out of a plane, you nearly drown me more than once, you endanger my life in more bizarre ways than I ever could dream of in my worst nightmares - and not once do you say sorry. But now you apologize? Jesus, Fraser - how bad do you think things are?"

"It's not that - but up here, you're a civilian, my responsibility. My first duty of care is to you - these men could have been reported to Fort McPherson without endangering your life."

He put his hand on my arm. "Fraser - I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself. But for future reference, I'd appreciate it if you'd duck the rifle butt."

He forgave me, just like that. Ray never stopped surprising me - another reason I was totally, hopelessly, in love with him.

He fed Dief and made supper for us. The cabin was not as spartan as my father's, but it was clearly not a permanent home, and contained few luxuries. "Can we risk a fire?" he asked. The cabin was indeed chilly.

"I think so - tonight. Not tomorrow, they'll see the smoke. Shall I lay it?"

"I got it - I think I can do this now." He was being ironic - to my immense surprise, Ray had taken to outdoor life like he was born to it.

We'd returned to Chicago in March after the capture of Muldoon and had waited until August before setting out. In a hired jeep I'd shown Ray the summer and autumn splendor of the Territory, spending Christmas in Inuvik with Maggie before borrowing her dogs and starting our dogsled trek inland. We had been in Fort McPherson a week earlier and were making a slow circuit back to the Beaufort Sea to find Franklin's hand. We had plenty of time, at least until May when Ray was due back - I had not yet decided on where I wanted to work. Watching Ray's face now, showing his delight in his new found skill of fire setting, I thought that being away from him would be more than I could bear.

After we ate, Ray settled down to cut some quarrels from the rods he'd found, using a steel file that was lying on the ground in the shed. He was disgusted by the habits of the two criminals - "I mean, look at this shit, will ya? They just dump things, don't fix stuff, let equipment break down from not maintaining it - too stupid to look after what they got, and not bright enough to realize we might use it."

"I agree with you, but it has worked to our advantage nonetheless." The crossbow I was working on by lamplight proved his point - it only wanted some screws, and minor adjustment. It seemed it had been discarded simply because the stock was cracked.

He cut six bolts and I told him that was sufficient - I very much doubted we would have time to reload even that many times. "Now what the hell are you making?" he wanted to know. He'd helped me collect suitable sized rocks earlier, but had assumed, I suppose, I simply meant to throw them as they were.

"A bola, Ray. If you use the crossbow, I can throw this - it can bring down an elk, or a man. You know, the amusing thing is that the last time I made one of these, I was also suffering from concussion and waiting for a criminal in the woods. It was Ray Vecchio who threw it, though."

"Yeah, well let's just hope you don't go blind or paralyzed on me like you did then."

He got up to make tea. "Ray - how do you know about that case? I don't recall telling you about it."

"It was in the files when I took the undercover thing."

"As I recall, there was no mention of it in the Chicago PD file because it occurred on Canadian soil. It was handled entirely up here and after Ray made a statement, he wasn't involved further."

Ray didn't answer and busied himself pouring hot water into mugs before bringing it over. I looked at him and then he confessed. "I asked Turnbull, okay? When I was stuck in the consulate over the Volpe thing."

"You asked Constable Turnbull about me?"

"Sure," he said, trying to sound nonchalant, "I wanted to know who I was trusting. We didn't know each other that well, Fraser, you know that."

"Hmmm," I muttered, knowing it would annoy him, but he said nothing. The explanation wasn't convincing.

We drank our tea by the fire, and even though we were in a certain amount of peril, and my head continued to throb unmercifully, it was good to rest from the trail for a night. He found a pack of greasy cards and offered to play poker with me.

"Remember Lady Shoes, Fraser?"

"How could I forget?" I said dryly.

"I have to admit, she was one foxy lady."

"She was a criminal, Ray."

"A foxy criminal. And don't tell me you weren't checking her out."

"All right."

He looked at me sharply then dropped his gaze back to his card hand. "You know what I was thinking while we were in the storeroom?"

"Well, no, I couldn't possibly know that since I was unconscious."

"Ooh, who's a bad-tempered little Mountie this evening? Your head hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does. I'm sorry - what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that since I met you I seemed to get tied up and handcuffed on a regular basis and I wished just once it was because I was going to get laid, not killed." I choked.  "You all right there, Fraser?" he asked in alarm.

"I'm ... fine, tea went down the wrong way." I coughed a few times for effect.

Another sharp look but he finally seemed convinced. "Anyway, I was lying there facing certain death - again - and thinking that it's been three years since I had sex and that it was just pitiful to die knowing that. How long's it been for you?"

"That's a rather personal question, don't you think, Ray?" I concentrated on my cards.

"So? Fraser, I told you - what's the big deal?"

"I didn't ask you for the information, you volunteered it." I said stiffly.

"It's because you never had it, is that it? Geez, Fraser, it's OK - I mean, I kinda thought that was it ..."

"Ray, do I look mentally defective to you?"

"No, but..."

"And am I unappealing in appearance, or otherwise repulsive?"

"No ..."

"Then why do you persist in this belief that I am a virgin? And it's thirteen months."

I could only blame my outburst on my head injury - I can't otherwise explain why I was boasting about my sexual exploits in this undignified fashion. Ray sat with his mouth open, stunned. "Fold," I said, to his total bewilderment. He put his cards down, no longer interested in the game.

"Fras ... thirteen months... since you had sex?"

"Yes."

"Who was she?"

"Ray - you know I don't talk about these things."

"Thirteen months ... January last year ... that was when you were in LA. You slept with a chick in LA?"

"I'm not talking about this, I told you."

That was the wrong thing to say. "Oh, right - you can know everything about Ray Kowalski but Benton Fraser is just too pure for ordinary mortals to talk about. And here I was thinking you and me was buddies." He stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"Bed. I'm not gonna ask if you are, cos that's like personal stuff and we can't talk about that, can we?"

"You're being childish."

"Yep, that's me. Immature, dumb, dirty minded and childish."

He unrolled his sleeping bag with a snap, and then went outside to find the outhouse. I felt guilty - I hadn't meant to be so rude, or dismissive, but talking about my sex life with Ray was far too close to the bone. Talking about Angel was a further difficulty. But my peace of mind was much more at risk if my friendship with Ray crumbled. Trust between us was very important to him - perhaps the most important thing. And now I had said, more or less, that I didn't trust him enough to talk about my private life. Chivalry had its limits - and its limitations.

He came back in and slammed the door, shivering hard. "Fuck, it's _freezing._ Do you need a hand getting there?"

Even angry as he was, he was concerned about me. "No, I'm fine."

I made my own rapid visit and like him, was glad to retreat to the comparative warmth of the cabin again. He was already wrapped in his sleeping bag, lying on one of the two narrow cots at one end of the room. I sat on the empty one. "It wasn't a woman, Ray."

He rolled over and blinked. "What?"

"The person - was male."

He sat up and stared. "You ... you slept with a man in LA?"

"Not exactly ..."

"A kid?" His voice was of astonished horror.

"Of course not, Ray - what do you take me for?"

"But you said you didn't sleep with a man - if it wasn't a man, and it wasn't a kid, then who ... Fraser, was it human?"

"Not exactly ..." then seeing his alarm, I put my hand on his shoulder. "It's complicated - I think if you say it was a 'guy', we can leave it at that." I didn't know where to begin in describing a vampire to Ray, let alone one with a soul.

"You're _gay,_ Fraser? But what about that Metcalf chick?"

"Bisexual, Ray. 'Bi' - not 'a'." I was confusing him again, and I was beginning to wish I had not brought it up. "I'm bisexual, not asexual. I have sex, Ray."

If I'd sprouted horns or grown fangs, I doubt he could have been more surprised. "I don't get it - I've known you for three years, never seen you with a chick or a guy, and you go to LA for a month and you sleep with someone? I thought you ... hell, I don't know the first thing about you."

"Why does that surprise you - the Los Angeles incident, I mean?"

He lay flat again and looked at the ceiling. "Cos I thought ... if you were gonna sleep around, you had all the chances. I thought you were like me - that you wouldn't sleep with someone you didn't know, that you didn't love."

"You sound disappointed in me."

He shrugged. "Maybe. A little."

"The circumstances were rather unusual..."

"I don't want to hear about it, Fraser - you want to sleep around with guys or women, whatever, that's your business." With that, he rolled over, putting an end to our conversation.

The combination of concussion and my irritation at my inept way of telling Ray about my brief encounter with Angel kept me awake for a long time. He made it sound dirty - like a casual, meaningless fling. How could I explain that it was not meaningless, just two lonely people, one grieving, the other missing the volatile intelligent man resolutely ignoring me just two feet away, coming together to offer solace to each other? I'd never been ashamed of it - until now.

 

* * *

I could hear Fraser shifting about, sighing. I guessed his head hurt. I knew why I couldn't sleep - my brain was racing back and forth between wondering if we were gonna make it tomorrow with our make do weapons, and thinking how could I get things so wrong about him. Fraser - with a guy. All that crap about it not being a man, that had to be the head injury I thought. But Jesus - him sleeping with anyone was a big enough shock. A guy - and casual. Fuck. I'd fallen hard for him, and never thought I had a hope. If the guy just wanted a casual screw, he could've asked me - I wouldn't have said no. Not to Fraser.  But he never asked. I guess if he'd rather sleep with a stranger, that told me all I needed to know. I mean - hell, I'd given him enough hints, and we were closer than brothers anyway. We'd practically been sleeping with each other the whole of this trip - to tell you the truth, it was driving me nuts. All this time, I was telling myself that Fraser just didn't have sex with anyone. Now, it looked like, he just didn't want sex with _me._

I must've dropped off because the next thing I knew there was a wet nose in my ear. "Dief!" I complained, jumping, but quietly. I looked across - Fraser was still out. I supposed I should have kept him awake, but hell - what was the point? No hospital within a hundred miles of here.

I got up and let Dief out. The fire had died and I didn't dare relight it - Fraser was right, they could see the smoke a mile away. I'd slept in my clothes so all I needed to do was pull on my boots. We had a little propane stove so at least I could boil water. I let Fraser sleep while I did - I was feeling guilty about my tantrum. Now it seemed - well, like he said, childish. Whose business was it who the hell he went to bed with? He was still my friend, no matter what.

I made tea - no coffee that I could find - and brought Fraser a mug and the lantern. "Shake a leg, buddy." He groaned and rolled over. Shit - he didn't look good. "Fraser - are you sick?"

He sat up and held his head. "I wouldn't reject aspirin at this point." I handed him the tea and fetched the aspirin - we were running low. "Thank you, Ray. I think I'm actually improved - there are only two of you now."

I watched him drink his tea and the color came back into his face. "I'll make some oatmeal."

We ate breakfast and then all we could do was wait. We checked and rechecked our weapons. Fraser thought we shouldn't go out in the yard in case we were seen. Dawn was coming up, and just as soon as there was enough light that I could make out details in the far corner of the room, we heard Dief give a single bark. Thirty seconds later, the cans jangled. "Here they come," I said. Fraser gave me a grin. We were as ready as we were gonna be. But there was something I had to do.

"Fraser - I'm sorry about last night."

"It's all right, I assure you."

"No it wasn't, and there's something else I want to say. If we don't ... you know, make it today ... I just wanted you to know, it's been a pleasure."

I put out my hand, and he shook it, smiling. "Likewise. Heads up, they're here. Quiet, Dief."

The truck rumbled into the yard and pulled up. The two young guys got out first and walked casually towards the cabin. We kept quiet until they opened the door, then Fraser and me belted them and they went down like they were poleaxed. I pulled them out of the way. "Watch 'em, Dief," I told him. We looked out the dirty windows - there were two older men, one, a real big guy, just standing and waiting for our two boys to come back. I looked at Fraser, and he nodded, so we stood clear and I set off our home made bombs around the clearing. The noise was like the wrath of God - the windows shattered and Fraser slammed the door open with me covering him from behind with the bow. "Gentlemen!" he shouted.

The two guys were flat on the ground, but one was drawing his gun. Fraser threw his bola thing and whap! knocked it right out out of his hand. "Leave it, Tiny Tim," I told his friend, holding the crossbow on him. And that was that.  I took their guns and walked the bad guys back inside to their friends. Fraser tied them up with some of his tricky knots _and_ didn't forget to search their pockets. They were kinda turning the air blue, cursing us, cursing each other, and I thought about gags but Fraser wouldn't let me because of the risk of choking. Personally, I couldn't see the objection but that's Mounties for you.

"I called Fort McPherson - they'll dispatch an officer and a vehicle immediately - they suggest we ride back with them."

I asked the older of the two young guys. "Where the hell are our dogs?"

"Up yours, Yank." Pimply little prick.

I looked at Fraser, who came over and got reasonable with them. "You know, son, you're in a lot of trouble. Adding the theft of valuable animals to the list of your crimes is not going to help."

"Pisses you off, though, don't it?" So much for Canadian manners.

"Fraser, let me." I picked up the crossbow. "You see, kid? We fixed your toy. It's a damn shame, all this nice equipment just lying around, going to waste. Now you see, Fraser here's real handy with stuff like that but he had to do a fast job on it - so it might not be that accurate. I could, like, aim for your foot, and oops, you could end up singing soprano. Or I could just aim for your balls and save time - with any luck, I'll end up sending this bolt right through your empty head and into your friend there."

For the first time, he looked worried. "You wouldn't - you're cops."

Fraser piped up. "Strictly speaking, yes, we are, but my friend here is an American. Up here, he's a private citizen, not bound by the RCMP code of conduct. I have to say he is also a somewhat unpredictable person." Thank you, Fraser.

"You wouldn't let him shoot us!" The kid's voice had gone squeaky with fright.

I rested my foot on the kid's chair, and leaned toward him. "Accidents happen, don't they, Fraser? I mean, the crossbow _was_ broken ..."

"Yes, it was, and you're correct, so you might want to avoid pointing it at anyone in case it does just go off by itself." Fraser was deadpanning it completely and even I had no way of knowing what he was thinking. But he wasn't stopping me.

"You mean, I shouldn't lean over and put it here?" I asked, with the head of the bow resting on the kid's skinny chest. He was sweating.

"That would be unwise, certainly."

The kid was looking wildly at him, at me and at Dief who had decided to get in on the act and who was snarling at him. "Okay, okay, you win - they're at my dad's cabin."

"Location?" I asked, leaving the bow where it was.

The place he named meant nothing to me, but Fraser nodded. "It's the opposite direction from Fort McPherson, that's the only difficulty."

"We could take their truck." He gave me a look - funny, considering how two seconds ago he was happy for me to threaten someone with a crossbow bolt through the chest. "All right - what do you suggest?"

"I think the RCMP officers may want to speak to the gentleman anyway, so I imagine they will transport us there if we ask."

It would take the Mounties four hours to reach us from Fort McPherson so there wasn't much to do but pack up and settle down. Our prisoners bitched about being fed and Fraser was going to untie them but I put my foot down. "Uh-uh, no fucking way."

"But the Geneva Convention ..."

"Is not holding four dangerous criminals under guard with only a banged-up Mountie, a deaf wolf and a Chicago cop who is, may I remind you, on vacation!"

"Ray, it's perfectly safe if you keep a gun on them while I..."

"Nope - I'm not helping. You said I'm a civilian, so I'm civilianing. You let 'em go, you're on your own."

He shrugged. "Well, I'm terribly sorry, gentlemen, you'll have to wait until the officers arrive." He didn't _sound_ sorry.

I made tea for us. "How's your head?" I asked quietly.

He made a face but didn't answer and I took that to mean he would really like to rest. It was too risky with four bad guys, even tied up. "Where will we be tonight?"

"I don't know - it depends on that man's father, how long that takes. You and I can sleep out."

"You should get to the hospital."

"I'll be all right - I suspect if there was a clot or a hemorrhage, I'd be dead by now."

The calm way he said that freaked me - I knew people died from head injuries, sure, but not him. Not with that thick skull of his. He saw my look. "I'll be fine, Ray - trust me, I've been hit on the head enough in the last year or so to know."

He had that right - Willie Warfield's goons, that thing in LA ... Something came to me. "Fraser - the guy ... the one who helped you when you got mugged. Was he...?"

He looked at me steadily. "Yes. He was. I'm sorry." He walked away then and lay on one of the cots with his arm over his eyes. His head must have _really_ been hurting him.

But why apologize? It wasn't like him and me were dating - didn't I wish. Freaky Canadians.

It was dark again before the RCMP arrived. Fraser explained about the dogs, but when they learned the identity of the people we had tied up, they were impressed. The kids were nobodies - but their daddy was a _big_ fish, and someone the Mounties had been chasing for a long time. The older guys were a good catch too. Feathers in caps all round, they said. Fraser discussed things on the quiet with his people while I watched the prisoners.

Fraser asked me to come outside. "The corporal here tells me that Jackson - that's Edward's father - is a dangerous man. He's suggesting that the prisoners be transported to Fort McPherson tomorrow morning. Officers from Ogilvie will call on Jackson tonight and arrest him."

"And our dogs?"

"The corporal is giving us the option of taking the truck to Jackson's farm once the arrest has been made, collecting the dogs and returning to Fort McPherson in our own time. We can leave the vehicle there."

"I thought we weren't supposed to use their truck?"

"Officially no, but apparently they've agreed we can borrow it, if we don't press charges of dog theft. Corporal Anderson is a very persuasive man. But we have to return the truck."

I couldn't see anything wrong with the plan, and another night in a cabin, even with blown in windows, was going to be easier on Fraser's head.

We hammered up boards over the windows. The bad guys were cuffed and locked up in the store room. I took Corporal Anderson out to show him the greenhouses, while Fraser and the other constable kept an eye on the prisoners. We got the call that Jackson had been arrested, so all was clear to pick the dogs up. After that, we could relax. All I had to do was heat up enough food for eight people and keep the fire going. The constable slept across the door of the store room, his corporal not far from him. Fraser and me got the cots again.

"A good day's work," he grunted, taking his boots off.

"You'll have to teach me that bola trick."

"It would be a pleasure, Ray." His eyes twinkled at me - I knew he was thinking about what I said earlier.

Fraser got breakfast duty while Constable Thurman and me checked over the truck by lantern. It looked in good shape, so I knew our two boys hadn't been the ones to maintain it. Fraser insisted on paying for the gas we took - it was a waste of time to argue with him but I tried.

"Fraser - the only reason we got to use the fucking thing is because they stole our dogs. So why are you paying for us to retrieve the dogs when we shouldn't have had to in the first place?"

"They didn't have to let us use their truck."

"No, I coulda kicked 'em in the head until they agreed!"

"Now, Ray, I couldn't allow that. Not in front of the corporal." And then he was inside getting our gear, leaving me open-mouthed. I sure was learning a lot about my partner.

We left before the RCMP boys. It was still dark - we had a long way to go today. Fraser was happy for me to drive - he said his vision wasn't a hundred percent. I'd have been happier if he'd gone back to Fort McPherson, but then the Dempster highway isn't for beginners, and Fraser refused to let me go on my own.

We figured it would take us six hours to get there, taking things easy. The scenery was amazing - wild and stunning, and Fraser chattered on happily about the famous Mountie, William Dempster, who the road was named after. He sounded like Fraser's kinda guy for sure - a complete lunatic.

It was almost dark before we found the Jackson place. We went in carefully, even though we'd been told it was clear - Mama Kowalski didn't raise no dummies, and where there was one bad guy, there could be others. But nope, the place was empty. Dief found our dogs who looked like they were doing okay. There was food there so we fed them.

"You think we could sleep inside tonight?" The temperature was dropping and I didn't want to drive back in the dark.

"I suppose - we could leave money. We need more fuel too."

"Whatever. Let's see if the place is locked up."

It wasn't, so Fraser's touchy conscience was okay about it. We had our own food so all we needed was the shelter and some firewood. This place was a lot more comfortable than the cabin we'd been in - this was a real home.

He wouldn't let us use the beds and I was too tired from driving to argue - it'd been hard work. He fussed around, making tea, making supper, feeling guilty, I guess, for making me do all the work. "For Chrissakes, Fraser, come and sit down. All we gotta do is sleep now." I was almost too tired to eat, and he had to take my bowl off me before I dropped it. I settled in front of the fire, my eyes closing. The rug was softer than the ground we'd been camping on.

"Lie down, Ray. Like you said, all we have to do is sleep."

"How's your head?"

"Better. Lie down." I was all over that idea. Trouble was, I was also wired from the driving - and other things. I tried to be quiet, but finally Fraser rolled over and looked at me. "Is something wrong, Ray?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

He looked worried but agreed. "All right."

"Why did you apologize to me?"

"What are you talking about?"

Okay - so it _was_ his head injury talking. "Yesterday at the cabin. I asked you about the guy, and you said it was the one who helped you and then you said sorry."

He took a while to answer. Maybe he didn't remember. "I wasn't apologizing."

"You said sorry."

"I said I was sorry. There's a difference."

Maybe it was me who had the head injury. I went through what he said in my mind. "Why?"

"Because he wasn't the one I wanted, and perhaps my liaison with him may prevent me from being with who I do want."

More silence. I worked through that. Worked out the chances of the Mountie telling anyone but me about this. "I'm sorry too, Fraser."

Eventually. "Why?" he said so quietly, I wasn't sure I'd heard right.

"Because ... I wish you'd been with the one you wanted. Maybe your chances are better than you think."

"Only maybe?" He could've drilled holes in steel with that stare.

"Definitely."

He sighed. Sighed again. "Ray - are we talking about the same thing?"

Talking - hell, I was done with talking. Talking was getting us confused and I didn't want any more communication problems. I scooted closer and put a hand on his face. If I was wrong, now was when I would find out. He turned his head and kissed my hand, and then I knew. I moved until our lips were just half an inch apart. "It's me?"

"Always you. Never anyone but you." He moved that half inch and then we were touching lips. Now we were kissing, and that first kiss was the sweetest thing I had ever tasted or felt. I've kissed guys before - one or two - but Fraser was the best of any man or woman I'd ever been with. I freed my other arm and pulled him over to me.

"I've been dreaming about this for two years," I said, thinking maybe I was still dreaming. I could taste the toothpaste Fraser brushed his teeth with, and the ripe male smell of someone who hadn't had a bath for three days - I probably stank too. I don't _usually_ dream in smell so I figured this had to be reality. The shock on Fraser's face was probably real too.

"Two years? But Ray ... I've seen you pursue women - Luanne Russell, my sister...."

"I'm bisexual, not asexual," I mimicked and the shock dissolved into laughter.

"I have to tell you that I love you, Stanley Raymond Kowalski."

"Symbolically or something?"

"Definitely. Phallically symbolically." He moved his hips a little and I yelped.

Fraser just made a dirty joke. Fraser just made a move on me. Fraser ... said he loved me. Oh - "I have to tell you something."

"What's ... that?" he murmured, having designated kissing me as his favorite bedtime occupation.

"I love you too."

"Not symbolically?"

"Nope - not even slightly. Can we zip these things together?"

We could and we did. It wasn't the most romantic snuggle in the world with us both still fully clothed, but I was pretty damn happy. I was even more happy that it isn't just Dief who likes to lick things, or that my ears must be erogenous zones (now how did I miss that in twelve years of being married to the Stella?). It suited me just fine the way Fraser and me are the same height which let us get a little groin to groin thing going, and if not much happened that night, I could tell it wouldn't be long. And I realized that there was something about Canadians - Mounties in particular - I really, really appreciated. They're thorough - oh God, they're thorough. If they plan to kiss you, they kiss until you can't even remember your name. They use their tongues like it's a sacred duty to explore every square inch of your face, your neck and your mouth and I sure am never gonna complain about the lack of coordination they don't have. What Fraser was doing with his hands while his tongue and lips were busy shouldn't just be illegal - I think it probably _is_ illegal in some states. Wasn't gonna tell him though - if anyone's putting cuffs on him, it's gonna be me.

And so I fell asleep, in a nice warm double sleeping bag, with nice warm arms around me, having been kissed long and hard and groped (with a lot of groping back) by a nice strong warm Mountie who may have had a head injury but the rest of him was working just fine.

We never found the hand of Franklin. We drove back to Fort McPherson, and decided it was dumb to then turn around and head back inland on a sled, so we went on up to Inuvik and handed the dogs back. On the drive to Fort McPherson we kept our hands on each other's legs, kissed when we stopped and we talked about the future. Fraser didn't want to go back to Chicago forever, I didn't want to leave him but I didn't want to live off him either. In the end, we compromised. We decided to stay in Chicago for a while, get our savings together and make long visits to Canada when we could. And eventually, we plan to live up here for good.

As for us - I could tell you about the hot lovemaking, and being very grateful that Ben, after all, wasn't a virgin, not by a long shot. I could be smug about making my Mountie lose all his dignity and come until his eyeballs practically bled. I could even tell you about the night we made love under the stars, and nearly getting hypothermia because we passed out before we got into our sleeping bags (Dief woke us up).

But I won't. Cos like Fraser says, there are some things you just don't talk about. But I wished he'd tell me the name of that guy in LA - I owe him a drink. Don't want to talk to him - I just want to say thanks. For saving my man, and saving him for me. And most of all, for not being the person Fraser wanted after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written nearly twenty years ago under another pseudonym. It hasn't been revised (or reread by me) since then.
> 
> I am posting this and my other stories from this period purely so people can read them if they choose. I won't be reading comments, and don't care if you leave kudos. I'm dumping them and running.
> 
> Having said that, I worked hard on them, and I hope they still entertain someone out there.


End file.
